Long nights
by lostloveloki
Summary: When Loki gets lonely at night...


Loki lost track of his thoughts and lay down on his bed.  
It had been a long day, frought with fighting enemies, both mortal and immortal. Somehow they never ceased fighting him. He was covered in bruises, but he relished it. They were battle wounds and showed his resilience. They were a source of pride for the trickster.

He'd undressed the Midgardian way tonight. He'd simply felt like it, and it enabled him the opportunity to observe his injuries, though he wouldn't tend to them. They weren't deep, he'd made sure of that. Battle scars were nice, but Loki was not a fool and never let the others near enough to cause him serious harm. His fingers trailed over himself, his nerves fraught and his body aching.

His hand slipped under his boxers, trailing along his length absentmindedly.  
His mind wandered for a while, but soon returned to the man who'd distracted him in battle. Stark.  
Maybe it was because he'd undressed manually, or maybe the general arousal that Stark's cockiness always brought about, but Loki suddenly felt desire build in the pit of his stomach. it might have been the undressing. Perhaps it was the natural teasing of clothes from flesh, but it felt unlikely. He imagined Stark's face, his lips against his, the thought of that stubble scratching against his pale neck. How would it feel to have those deft little fingers work him? To feel the man's lips against his cock? Loki let out a thick moan.  
How would it feel to fuck that mouth? To be under his mercy? Loki shuddered as lust overcame him and he hardened, thickening. He felt the need rise, as he began stroking his limb repeatedly. He pressed against his sensitive slit, feeling the liquids at the tip. He smeared the precum over his limb, and began moving his hand firmly up and down his shaft. The sensation was brilliant. He continued like this for a while, and carefully fingered the most sensitive spots under his testicles with his other hand, heightening the pleasure. His breath became heavy and ragged as his back arched forward.  
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes! He moaned with pleasure. If the neighbours were home, he hoped they could hear him, could hear the pleasure from when he jerked himself off. He wanted them to be intrigued by his frenzy, wanted them to be hypnotised by the sounds. He wanted them to feel the pain of having no one to touch. To desire the hot breaths leaking from his lips, though they'd never set eyes on him. He wanted them to fantasise. Yes, they would fantasise. If they were lucky and not on their own, they would start fucking like rabbits to the rhythm of his deep, beautiful moans.

Loki grew restless as his release didn't come. "Come on!" he cried out.  
He let a duplicate appear. "Suck me," he commanded imperviously. He looked into the duplicate's face with repulsion. "Punish me." The duplicate nodded, mirroring Loki's usual sadistic grin.  
It climbed onto the bed and bent over. Its lips touched his slit, and then licked it. He trembled, and gripped onto the bed. "Don't tease. Engulf me."  
It looked up at Loki for a moment, a dark lust in its eyes, before it swallowed his entire member without gagging. Loki bucked his hips, suddenly feeling ablaze. The tight throat was bliss. Its head bobbed up and down as it pleasured him, keeping up a steady rhythm. Loki's fingers tangled in its long ebonie hair, pushing it harder against him. His fingers slowly stroked its face in what might have been called a caress, if Loki's face hadn't been filled with revulsion. The skin was too smooth. He wanted to feel those stubbles. As the head continued to bob up and down his shaft, Loki whispered a spell, turning the duplicate into Tony Stark.

"Suck me Stark, suck me like you wish to milk me. Make my juices flow. Swallow me, drink me, consume me…"  
Stark sped up, his tongue and lips working Loki. His fingers found Loki's sensitive spot and began massaging that. Loki writhed with pleasure, thrusting his hips up into Stark faster and faster and faster. The need griped him, and the pace killed him. He felt like he was dying, but dying a hot, blissful death.

Oh, oh, oh! screamed a voice. It took him a while to realise it was his own. Clawing his hands into Stark's head he released his thick juice into him, and Stark swallowed it whole.  
Loki sighed with satisfaction, as he pulled Stark's face to him, resting a kiss on those lips.

Once its duty was fulfilled, the copy disappeared again.

Loki simply lay there.

Once the glow of satisfaction had ebbed, and he lay in his own sweat, cold and alone once again. He turned onto his side, and held himself together.  
"One day I won't be alone anymore," the quiet prayer fell from his lips.


End file.
